Best Thing That's Ever Been Mine
by radiolover1029
Summary: England, 1940: Sophia Eames lost her parents to the war. Left in the care of kind Mrs. Pevensie, Sophia and the Pevensie children have the adventure of a lifetime in Narnia. Exploring the land, meeting friends and enemies alike, and the frightening encounter of a White Witch- it's up to them to become the Kings and Queens of legend in order to save Narnia. Peter/oc
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Blockades

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1940

* * *

A sense of euphoria washed over London. Every day, the harbringer toyed with the idea to eject bombs over the city and surrounding counties. Scaring wives and children as well as the overseas men fighting them. The enemy grinned in a beer hall thinking of lines on a map but don't think of the scared mothers feeling helpless to save their children. They rather smoke a cigarette between their teeth than to smell the piping hot burning flesh amongst the fires. And worst to come, the sound of the neverending sirens at nighttime. Some are deafened by the people's screams others are woes of agony from lost children.

In 1939, war was brought to the Allies. Specifically and horrifically to London. The German man tiny aircrafts over the British air to unleash the phase one of their wartime plan- blitzkrieg. Or simply Blitz. Tanks of armed nuclear warfare were shipped over in by the dozens in random intervals to weaken political strength and invoke fear straight to the Allies.

The city of London and all connecting cities were mandated to evacuate women and children- but specifically children- to the countryside where hopes lied in safety. For a while, all of London remained deserted. But the neighborring counties, confused and not yet invaded, waivered the mandate hoping the bombs would cease reign.

They didn't.

With half of London's population reduced, men overseas were dying from trench warfare and injured from ammunition. A shortage of nurses were advertized in the papers. Right alongside the P.O.W.s, M.I.A.s, and worst of all the tolling death roll.

Parliament was desperate. They took a call of action and emitted posters to join the British Royal Force, and to serve for their country with a need. Many of the fliers handed out were determined individuals believing only they could withstand the war. Many who entered never saw action for long enough or were hospitalized with little medical attention.

One fateful flier landed in the hands of Anne Eames. A widow and mother of one, she had little left besides her daughter to live for. Most of her neighbors had fled to the country, leaving only a few friends on the street. The handout was an ad for the Nurses Corp. It was illustrated with a woman gazing back at a soldier from afar with the slogan, "The woman he left behind, is right behind him,". The woman was then emphasized in a clean white uniform with small captions of taking care the sick and deprived. To have an honor in serving good men.

Her eyes crystaled over in reminsince. She too had faced hardship like any widow. It was still early in drafting when Todd Eames raved on and on till the cows came home about it. She thought him silly to pick up everything and leave. But that never stopped him.

Wartime was never easy on the economy. When Todd was laid off from the factory, his calloused hands had been spotless. A first since he was married. He loved his job more than anything and to see all his hard work shoved off the Dover Cliffs meant all the more for him. That's when Anne began to worry everytime he returned to their home in Finchly with his application forms crumbled and his back slumped. Pursuing another job deepened the lines in his forehead.

And every night, he would slouch at the supper table, fiddle with his food, and grab the evening paper to search once more for any low wage jobs. The one thing that eased his mind when he crumbled the paper alongside the application forms was his lovely daughter.

His little Sophia was all the pride he had left in the world. Growing up fast and still as beautiful as a flower, she had the mind to entertain herself. Before either of them went to bed, he took her onto his lap, pick a fable from her storybook and read to her in his soothing voice until her eyelids lifted no more for the day.

It was cue for Anne to pick her up, walk up the stairs with her husband and tuck the sleeping child in with sugar sweet dreams covering her like a warm blanket. Just when Anne would round the corner, she secretly smiled at her lingering husband gazing back in her room second time. With a sigh, he wiped the smile off his face with a hand and carried on to his wife.

But that was before the draft. Before she and Sophia held each other in their arms watching the bustling train roll by with her father onboard. She could still remember the stuffy air that billowed beneath the train. The way her husband was dressed so handsomely in the uniform. And what kept her from holding back, the small tear formed at the crevice of his eyes when he waved them goodbye for the last time.

Sophia, happy as a clam, didn't know it would be the last time she would hold and hug her father. She couldn't possibly fathom it would be the last time she would say 'I love you!' in her cute squeal over the whistles. Or the last time he would read her a story the night before his departure.

It was Peter Pan. It took him a week of nights for Sophia to hear. Her favorite part was her father imitating the ticking crocodile. He always had a way to make her giggle.

Anne held the flier closer to her as she walked home. It was only three months after the departure did she receive a letter. Signed in impersonal black ink from the sqaudron leader and curtly, the General, a letter of death. He was in the trenches when a loose bomb fired from the enemy hit him and his men. No survivors. What mutalant remains left were unsuitable to ship home.

There was a condolence, a promise of military pay for his service, a hymn from the Bible, and a patch of his military uniform with his name stitched on it. "T. Eames".

Mrs. Eames no longer could contain her cries as she stepped inside. She muffled them with a pillow, to not disturb Sophia and her babysitter. She cleaned herself up. Wiping her eyes and spotting any tear stains, she set the flier on her husband's unkept work table. Though hesitant she took a deep breath and walked to see her daughter.

By the time she rose to the last step, she had made up her mind.

* * *

The same sense of euphoria from a year ago rushed over a uniformed Anne. Dressed in the proper attire and an added peat coat and hat, she tugged alongside her daughter down the subway tunnels. The anxiety spread over her chest as she saw the hustle and bustle crowd weaving in and out trying to make it to their destination. Most of them came in her general direction. She bit her lip wondering if the women in the crowd were going along with her.

Sophie, as nicknamed by her father, held her mother's hand in one and the fluffy teddy bear in another. Her eyes widened at the amount of people from behind and in front of her. She doubled her small pace to match her mother's long strides. As an 10 almost 11 year old girl, most would find it strange for her to hold such a toddler toy. To Anne, it was the most important piece of imagination she could protect for her.

A child's imagination was the only thing shielding them from the horrors of the world. At too young of an age, they can be scarred for life. If there was any small bit she accomplished in this war, it was protecting her daughter. So far, that seemed like nothing; but, to Sophie it meant the world.

"Platform 9," Anne muttered. The station was much longer than it appeared. It's cobblestone walls formed a half circlet shape to emphasize the railings and amount of walkway space. She manuevered her way through, dodging bulky suitcases and scrambling passengers. Overhead English scripted words detailed which tunnels to take and their designated train times.

"Next train leaves in five minutes!" a conductor yelled from the head of train nine. She sighed in relief to have got there in time. They settled by a nearby bench. Sophia played with her bear as her mother scavenged for her ticket. She found it at ease and closed the trunk.

Sophia continued to play as another woman with short brown curls, a simple hat, and a polka dot blue and white dress with stockings and sensible shoes approached Anne. The two women hugged each other tightly. They exchanged pleasantries shortly after.

Anne turned her attention to the comfortable, leg-swinging child of hers. "Sophia!" she grabbed her attention. She knelt down to look at her eye level. "Soph, you need to be mommy's big girl. I'll only be gone for a short while," Her warm hands caressed her child's shoulders. Sophie's face softened.

Down, she asked with pleading eyes, "But why do you have to go?"

Anne's eyes flickered down and then back to her. Her lip quivered. "Many good men are hurt," she explained slowly. "They don't have mums or sisters looking after them," Her tender words spoke volumes.

The child hugged the bear tightly, fearing it too would leave her. She remembered at such a young age how her mum was sad after receiving the letter. Though unwilling to accept her Dad was gone, she pretended he was still out there fighting. It wasn't until the small funeral held with no casket did Sophia finally cried. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"I wish Dad were here," Her nose twitched stuffily.

Anne's eyes crinkled. Her pearly white smile oped for a moment before choking back the lump in her throat. "Now, that won't do. What have I told you?" she said grabbing her small palms together.

Sophia's eyes narrowed down as her frown surfaced. "Daddy's in heaven watching over us, England and our soldiers," she murmured into the warmth of her teddy bear. Clutching on it for dear life, Sophia was estranged to feel such overwhelming emotion. She knew her mum would be away for a long time almost like the time she visited her mum and dad while Sophia stayed home with Daddy. However, this was a goodbye, her grandparents were long dead before the war, and Daddy along with them.

Her mother bit her lip several times to hold down the waterworks. She was a nurse. She had to be resilient, even in front of her own child. But the natural maternal urge to weaken and hold her daughter close was fighting.

She sniffed her nose. "But more importantly?" Anne distracted her wide blue-eyed girl.

From the deep lines of her frown, out cracked a beautiful toothy smile. She nodded her head along as if suddenly remembering something. "He's protecting us,"

She blinked profusedly to dry her eyes. "There's a good girl," her raspy voice came out. She stood up to gesture the woman she talked to. Dressed much more casually than her own mother, Sophia watched as the gentle woman interacted. "You'll take good care of her?" Anne nearly pleaded.

Helen's eyes crinkled. "Of course, Anne," her voice flowed music to Anne's ears. She needed to hear it. If only the one time.

"Thank you," she whispered. Suddenly, the warning whistle blew smoke and high pitched drones throughout the platform. Sophia became startled as well as her mother. She lifted the girl up to commit her mind every inch and detail of her child. Anne had to swat herself mentally for thinking about how she would look all prim and proper by the time she got out. A starring English lady. She prayed so frequently for the war to end. Though with little faith left, it was enough to go on.

"Sophie," she stressed as her window of opportunity was fleeing. "You remember Mrs. Pevensie from across the street? She and her four children have kindly offered to take you into their home. Promise you'll behave when I'm away?" They all walked together with the two women guarding the child.

She bobbed her head. "Yes, mum. When will you back?"

Anne froze. She wanted to break down and cry. Cry for her child's innocent nature and how horrible that innocence could be taken away if ever something happened to her. She regained her composure by pulling back a strand of hair.

She said hesitantly, "Shortly. But no matter how bad things are, I'll always be there for you. Always," She fixed her half lie with the wholesome truth. Staring into those same blue eyes she had fell head over heels years ago gave Anne the amount of courage she needed to grab the ticket out of her purse and proceed with her plans.

If any small part, she would protect Sophia. To preserve other children's innocence if needed. Above all, she would go and be brave likeher late husband to end a wicked war that no child nor woman nor man should have been a part in.

Unbeknowst to the simple mind of a child, Anne's million mile thoughts halted with two syllables. "Ok,"

She gripped tightly on the piece of parchment that held her ticket and boarding compartment as she stood in the line. Only two people ahead of her. Helen's hand squeezed her friend's shoulder. "Don't worry, Anne," Her other hand rested on the small of Sophia's back. Her teddy bear looked ready to pop out its stuffing due to her neverending hold on the toy.

Anne sighed heavily. "Sorry, separation anxiety," She skimmed a thumb over the gold band on her left hand. Looking down at the metal, she truly valued the object with a small smile. After so many months of mourning, Anne removed the band to reveal the white thin line that hid her true skin. As she took it off to inspect it, she held it over her heart. One more person in front.

She kindly looked back in reminiscence to her child and a doting Helen. Without words, she offered it to Sophie, who gladly took it as a keepsake. A promise of her return. Anne held two fingers to her flushed cheek.

"Ticket, m'am?" The foggy voice of the ticketmaster called. She fumbled with the ticket to the man. He inspected the numbers before ripping off the tag. "Welcome aboard,"

Anne was ushered quite hurriedly up the stairs to the train. She glanced back to the two females. She kissed the tips of her fingers before sending them away to Sophie. She caught them with a swooping gesture.

"Bye-bye darling," She said over the rush of the whistle. The churning of the metallic wheels ran over the tracks. Slowly, the steam billowed underneath transported the machinery over. "I love you," Anne's eyes never left them until an usherman advised her to take a seat inside the train.

Sophia's voice rang high. "Good bye mum!" The squeal of the wheels echoed on and on. She waved her little hand high in the air quite in a frenzy unlike Mrs. Pevensie's dainty wave. "I love you too!" She cried over the new hustle and bustle of people as the train pulled away and out of sight.

Sophia loosened her hold on the stuffed bear finally. "Do you think she'll be back by Christmas?"

Mrs. Pevensie's lip trembled. She couldn't have the heart to tell a child the truth about her mother's whereabouts. Or what she signed up to encounter. With nothing left to say, she offered a kind smile and two words.

"We'll see,"

* * *

**So good to be writing again :) Already have everything prepared. Should be expecting more chapters in the following days as a little gift for those who celebrate Thanksgiving or as I call it Turkey Day :) **

**Planning something for AFL as a wrap up but since NO ONE has messaged questions the whole format as to be sent back to the drawing board. :? It will come out hopefully sooner than later. As for 10th Kingdom... I have to get ALL the dialogue in first before writing which is a pain when I can't get it as easily as AFL because I had that movie. So for now, I gotta hold for that unless I get enough reviews for that.**

**I plan to extend this story into the Prince Caspian movie obviously. (I got allll that dialogue figured out too :) ) So yeah. Aren't I a brilliant writer for planning ahead? :))) My goal is to get this segment done before the New Year. Impossible? Sounds like it.**

**Projected Stats:**

**- 27 chapters**

**- 100k+ words**

**- tons of happy readers! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Arial Attack

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Summer 1944

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It was an unusually warm summer night: too hot for the fireflies to come out. The sun had passed down an hour ago. Streetlights turned on. Kids' bellies were full and tucked asleep. As the night rolled on, the night air had nothing peculiar aside from a stir of shadowy clouds. Neighbors thought nothing of it in the township of Finchely.

Rows of townhouses slowly switched off the light as they too fell asleep like their occupants. All accept for one. In the tiny outlet was a boy gazing at the city lights that seemed faint in the horizon. Fascinated, he snuck out of his bed to get a closer look. One by one lights faded.

Edmund Pevensie, out of curiosity, never did as he was told. He was just as stubborn as his father. Or so he was told. However he didn't want his father's memory to be disgraced with the reminder of such an inadequate trait. Instead, he pretended orders were just a sidetrack. They prevent the adventurous spirit of a young boy. So, just like all the other nights, he watched the lights go out. There was something mysterious by watching lights go in and out. Marvelous the technology, even more wondrous was the darkness that illuminated.

He did appreciate the everyday things but was even more enthralled with the unknown. To explore and to conquer. However, it would all disappear when his mother would check in, in the middle of the night, as par her routine ever since Edmund became captivated by the war effort.

Young boys weren't old enough nor should be involved with something too grown up. Helen Pevensie guarded all her children especially as they grew older and understood the cause.

Edmund's train of thought interrupted as the sirens blasted. His form shook at the initial shock. Then he eased into it as he watched the lights erupted like a bomb. The city was awake and on alert. Distant gunfire and sonic booms were vibrated off the window.

"Edmund, get away from there!" The shrill voice of his mother's worry woke his sleepiness. She pulled him back and clutched him to her chest as the neighborhood panic spread. Behind her lights came on again. This time his older brother Peter, on drill, rummaged for rations and supplies. "What do you think you're doing?! Peter!" Mrs. Pevensie panicked. She pushed the both of her boys on and closed the door behind before rushing to escape her other children.

Edmund slowed like a sloth. His reactions were delayed as he was trying to comprehend in the dead of night what exactly was wrong. And then the boom came. It shook the foundation. From miles away a neighborhood was besieged in flames. Peter grabbed his fallen brother.

"Come on! To the shelter, now!"

Upstairs, a wide-awake Sophia raced into automatic mode. Remembering all of Mrs. Pevensie's instructions, she grabbed the ready pack underneath her bed. Susan's bed was ruffled and empty besides her. Most likely startled from the first shock. The aftershock woke up Sophia as she clutched the pot at the end of her bed. She fiddled with the straps and threw it on her back.

Her body was obviously not read to move as her soreness and stiffness pained her muscles. She muddled through her hope chest at the foot of her bed. She scanned for miscellaneous things- picture album, letters, important items she collected over the years. Sophia would be damned if anything happened to them, Germans or not.

Panic was heard throughout the household. She heard her guardian pacing back and forth screaming for all her children to run to the shelter issued by the neighborhood watch. Sophia caught her breath before roughly bumping into a frazzled Susan.

"Susan!" She leaned into her friend. Her rustled hair looked mangled and too wild for rising up in the dead of night. "Where's Lucy?" Susan understood and ran off to Lucy's lone room.

In a moment, Sophia forgot one more thing. She made a run to her shared room but was intervened by Peter. Tall and holding every single bit of a growing boy to a man, Peter stopped a fighting Sophie.

Her eyes searched to the room, with every bit of her not wanting to go to the shelter until- "No time, Soph! We've got to go," He led her away as she struggled less. What encouraged her to go as Peter held her hand was the sound of more bomb droppings. With feverous ambition, they both hustled down the stairs and out the back door.

In a line, the Pevensie family with their emergency supplies ran the short distance from the back to the in ground shelter. The little girls were the first to reach in. Mrs. Pevensie more or less shoved all her children in before climbing in. Sophie hit her forearm against the bunk bed's pole and felt numb as her heightened sense of fear overwhelmed everyone.

Mrs. Pevensie never got the chance to close the door as Edmund's heart beat out of his chest. "Wait, dad!" Stupidly he ran outside. His mother's bloodcurdling screams did nothing but let her first son to chase after him. Susan screamed along with her mother, and Sophia held to a crying Lucy. The door was ajar. They watched with bated breath as Peter grabbed his brother clutching something shielded in his arms as they ran for it. Burnings from the aftermath landed only a few hairs behind them. Mrs. Pevensie shrieked her fear as they just made it with a few thuds and pushes.

Peter threw Edmund to the ground and began to shout. "Why do you always have to be so selfish! You only think about yourself," There were a few smoldering ash marks on their faces. Edmund, cornered and about to break, took the heat. "Why can't you ever do as you're told!"

His mother hushed him. "Peter," Edmund was held in his mother's embrace as his head turned to the cracked picture frame of his father in his uniform. He cradled it against him, not caring to Peter's words. Sophie's breathing was rushed but her head cooled against the cold stonewall.

Peter's words sunk into him as his brother glared at him with weary eyes. He slammed the shelter door and sat against the steps with his head in his hands.

Susan held Lucy on one of the beds. Mrs. Pevensie turned to Sophie who was trying to calm her nerves down like all the rest of them. "Turn on the radio, would you love?" Her voice came off in a string of ragged breaths. Sophia's hands maneuvered the dial as the test patterns echoed and crackled. Emergency drills were instructed in low murmurs. Probably not anywhere near the damage Finchely was under.

Susan wiped the brow of her little sister. "Mum, my tummy feels funny," Lucy's tiny voice sounded sleep deprived.

Offering to help as she had no other job to do, Sophia stood up shakily. She wiped her hands on her knee socks and the pajama pants she wore with her oversized shirt. "I'll get the medicine,"

"It's on the top bunk,"

The top bunk stored most of the food rations in neat, organized and updated tin cans. Sophia stood up and climbed up the stepladder to the top bunk. She sorted through the medicine portion she and Susan had stacked some many times during the weekends. Her eyes soaked in the names of different prescriptions before finding the sleeping syrup along with a metal spoon. As she proceeded down, her foot, too sleepy to care, slipped. As she waited for the impact and the sharp intake of breaths, she stumbled into another's arms.

Peter had watched Sophia instead of listening to the empty words of the broadcast. He knew as she came down, a loose string from one of her socks caught on the bars. Knowing the impact was eminent, he tensed his muscles just in case.

"Careful," he said settling her down. His arms wrapped around her sides and back. She blushed from embarrassment as she righted herself.

"Thanks," she said before climbing over the middle cot to reach Lucy. Peter's eyes drawn to her as she prepared a spoonful of clear liquid. "Here you go, Luce," She swallowed the bitter medicine down. She brushed her bangs back. "It'll be alright,"

Peter sat back down as Sophia stayed near Lucy until she fell asleep.

* * *

It was an hour of so before dawn when the sirens stopped. Five more agonizing minutes before the radio gave the a-okay to proceed out of the shelters. Sophia braced herself for the inflicted damage. When Peter opened the door for his mother and the younger siblings to walk out, the damage was promising. The fire that hit the back scorched the kitchen. Parts of the yard were turned over in dirt and glass mingled outside and inside the house. The great viewing window they looked out of to see the weather during breakfast was ruined in shards. Other than torched wood, the house was still standing and still in living conditions.

The same couldn't be said for the whole neighborhood. Streets down, great smoke engulfed the majority where the city hall and a couple of houses near the park. Fire engines were the only sirens left. Small fires were put out easily as the neighbors salvaged the rest of their property.

Mrs. Pevensie held a hand to her mouth. Her fingers shuddered as her eyes crinkled in sadness. "Oh my," she gasped. The family fanned out and watched in horror of how true the war was. Edmund looked at the window that could have cut him into ribbons. He inspected all the glass and splinters of wood. "Stay away from the debris," His mother called.

He backed away all to stumble by more debris. Dirt and other things split off around the things he forgot to stow away the day prior. His frown emerged as he noticed the ball had reduced greatly in size. "My wicket set," he muttered.

Mrs. Pevensie allowed the children in the house and started to sweep out the powder and remnants of the disaster of a kitchen. Sophie proceeded upstairs immediately. Some pictures were broken or turned the wrong way. Some things from the aftershocks moved or bent out of place.

To say the room was a little disorganized was a nice understatement. The furniture was turned over, things from the wall fell and… Sophia took it all in. The room was unrecognizable. She couldn't identify anything that was originally hers unless it was underneath the glass and splints that was her hope chest. She shuffled down the hallway to the little crevice where there was a place to sit and watch. A place to read or to escape in the middle of the house. She grabbed a fallen cushion before sitting carefully. The only window she had yet to see without a crack or blemish was in front of here.

"Sophie?"

Lucy stood there, no longer sleepy with her hands behind her. "Yes?"

Lucy's head dipped down and showed her the dusty teddy bear that needed to be sewn in some fluff in his belly. "Is this yours?" Her little bob of a head tilted ever so slightly.

"Mhmm," She could cry out of happiness. She clutched the small toy to her. She knelt besides Lucy, all cute and untouched from any of the debris in her clean nightgown. "Thanks," she said hugging the child with the teddy bear's eyes gazing back at her.

Lucy smiled. She walked back to her room, most likely wanting to see what was turned about. Sophia gazed at the bear in wonder. If anything, the one thing she wouldn't have left behind would be the bear she was given by her father and her mother. Out of joy and fear she cried once more. She uncurled herself and shakily stood up.

"You alright?" The voice startled her. She turned around to see Peter, with his hands besides him. Sophie's racing heart told her two things: one, destroy any evidence of tears, and two, hide the bear.

Her fingers wiped underneath the bottom of her lids. "You probably think it's stupid. To cry over a doll. This was the last thing my parents bought me before..." Her voice crackled.

"I know," Peter said believing. He toyed his foot around the bit of upholstered carpet. His eyes left the floor before returning back. "Mum kept all of dad's letters in a box. Still reads them every once in a while," He stepped forward her. Naturally she took a half step back before righting her stance.

Peter's hands made their way into his pockets. His mouth gaped forming empty words. Sophia waited for what he was about to say.

A frayed and clearly tired Mrs. Pevensie marched up the stairs. She spotted the two teens two feet apart. "Sophia, dear, there has been a slight more debris than I expected. Susan is making the cots downstairs, Lucy is sleeping in my room and the boys' room is untouched. Do you mind sleeping downstairs?" she asked. In her hands were clean sheets.

She shook her head. "No, Mrs. Pevensie, I don't mind,"

The sheets in her hands smoothed out as she smiled. "Don't stay up too long," Her eyes wavered between Sophia and Peter who looked her on. A secret smile coveted the spot in the corner of her mouth.

Peter glanced at his friend. "Soph?" He regained her attention. Her curls followed her every head movement. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat. "Good night," he said foolishly without thinking of something to say.

Sophia, befuddled, watched as Peter shook his head and stalked off with a glance over his shoulder.

"You too, Peter," she called as he went the opposite direction. Sophia's hands crept around the teddy bear's arm and embraced warm fur it held. She stared then at the empty spot Peter once occupied curiously.

* * *

"…I don't know, Shirley. It's mandated. I want them to be safe and together," Helen's melancholic voice said. All that was heard from Sophia's doorway, closest to the stairs, were voices. Crystal tears formed at the bridge of her eyelids. She closed them as she enveloped each voice around her.

The prude voice of Mrs. Canterbury from across the street called after a sip of tea, "Wartime calls for necessary sacrifices. You don't want your children to grow up in this mess. It isn't right," She always had a disdain from the old woman. Never tolerated her or her cranky husband who at one point wanted none of the children coming anywhere near their lawn. Which of course _had_ to be perfect in every shape and way.

"There's a chance they might be separated. The McGregors were. And they had two! And poor Sophia has been separated ever since she was little. She's like one of my own," Her heart reached out to Mrs. Pevensie. She put up her charge because of the neighborhood bond their family shared with what Sophie's was. More tears started to water.

"It's a choice you have to make, Helen. This has been the second bomb in months. Next time it might be tanks!" Her concern evident.

Her ear opened. She waited for what seemed like the longest pause. "Every week in the post, I receive the application forms. And every week I write it out but always stop in the middle,"

"Dearie, I've lost three boys, all in the war. The first priority as a mother is to protect her young. Sign the papers, Helen. You can make do here," Mrs. Canterbury said in an unfamiliar soft voice. "Clean up this place so your children can grow up in peace,"

Realization sunk into her. Tears sprung and Sophia wept through the night. She was to be separated, sent on a train off to who knew? Just like her father. Just like her mother.

The only difference was she wouldn't be alone. Her friends would accompany. But like Helen said. They could be separated. The caretakers could be cruel and pick them off one by one. Like a wicked witch in a sugary cottage, her fate was rested solely on the government and the false security of her new guardian. For all she knew, they might not be a home to come home to. And then what? All the family she had then would be gone. She would be handed off like a piece of meat to the orphanages. From there foster families float in and out and take their pick like it was a dog show. That wasn't appealing any way you slice it. What was worst, relying on a dying war cause or accept for the rest of her life she would always be together and apart?

It might as well be a lonely trip.

* * *

**Yay, another one! Maybe another one?** **What do you guys think?**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: One Day

* * *

One of the creditentials a train conductor is unfamiliarly associated with is his ability to read people's emotions. Every day, at the stroke of a clock or the whistle, he takes a moment to survey the passengers onboard and off. Onboard, there could be one of those passengers with the annoying tickle in their throat. Besides them is the sleepy man who has hopped on and off train to train in order to get to his destination and would like nothing more than to chuck his companion to the tracks.

Two compartments on, he would spot the crying babe clutching on to the shoulder of a young mother whose eyes dart nervously to the people sitting around her. As if they would yell and scream at her to control herself and how unfit a mother she is to allow her child to shriek its heart's content. Ironically a seat away from the anxious mother is that snot-nose teenager who is at the age of unbelieving. Thinking the world is at their fingertips they mumble incoherent solutions as if it were so obvious to soothe the child.

The conductor would merely pass as the lifes and backstories continued as continuous as the tracks before them. And then he would stop, help a frazzled newcomer (the ones who have a certain phobia with moving vehicles) and it would be up to him to settle him down in a separate compartment so as to not upset thte other guests aboard.

This time the conductor stationed himself outside the train. He yelled the minutes by as hastened passengers check their tickets before hopping on. In some cases he would keep a sharp eye on those sneaky cads who dared stowing away in the cargo hold and in the often occasion of the caboose.

No, no this was much different. It was another all child's train. That is, all the occupants on this leg consisted of children sent away from the dangerous cities to a safer place in the country. These were the stories that ached in a conductor's heart. He would witness a mother embracing her child for the last time or remembering the directions tagged on to their clothing. The tears they would shed seeped in the crack in his heart. He made the children comfortable. For he was only a part of their lonely journey away from home.

His eyes grew old and crusty from the steam the engine produced. He blinked profusedly the dryness in his eyes. Children were hugging and screaming for their mums or dads to come with. He turned the other cheek not wanting to hear nor see the parent's reaction to a begging child.

The train whistled once more. He claimed the pocketwatch. Quarter till. He stuffed it back and decided that was enough time outside of the train. He stepped into his workspace, feeling he rather be cooped up in a train then watch another family be ripped apart.

* * *

"Attention, would all parents ensure that their children have the appropriate identification papers," an announcer barked over the locomotion. Unfortunate to his keen passengers, must that was taken from his announcement were parents children and papers. Surely enough it wouldn't take a genius to decode his words. Or so the announcer had hoped.

Standing off to the side where other parents were preparing their selves for the practiced speech they rehearsed in front of the mirror. However, things said to oneself aren't necessarily the same words spoken to a child. Especially with those big eyes they wear.

Mrs. Pevensie prepared nothing of the sort. It's complete nonsense to stand around pretending all is right in the world when in actuality there's nothing but you sending your children away from war. Helen could only hope they would stay together as promised and tagged. That, and to be taken care of in her absence. The professor that agreed to take such a large bunch had a generous estate, well educated, and was far away from Finchely as possible. A blessing and curse in disguise.

Lucy righted her coat buttons. She knelt down to her eye level. "You warm enough?" She tucked in the flaps and straightened out any loose seams. As much as Lucy loved dressing up, she hated wearing the stuffy coat and scratchy hat her mum bought her in a flea market. She liked the pattern and the look, but the material suffocated her small, growing body.

Mrs. Pevensie's stern eyes appeared the once. "Now honey you have to keep this on you. Be sure and keep this on," Her hands skimmed over her cold cheek. Pricks of pink blossomed from the warmth of her palm.

"If Dad were here, the war would be over, and we wouldn't have to go," Edmund pointed out. He was currently fixing the tag that seemed to be pinned upside down. The tips of his fingers angrily turned it right side up with a small prick to his thumb pad. He glared at it, venting his emotions to the needlepoint though really bottling up his denial about his father's presence.

A sharp glare emitted from his older brother. His gaze originally at a troupe of army men refocused to mutterings of a boy. "If dad wasn't fighting and the war was over we wouldn't have to go,"

Their mother sighed heavily. She fiddled with Lucy's hat once more. None but her children could imagine the pain and suffering like she went through. Her eyes lowered anywhere but the daggers aimed between the siblings. Her thin hand cuffed her wrist.

She pursed her lips into a thin line. "You will listen to your brother, won't you Edmund?" Her hand made its way to Edmund's shoulder but he shrugged it off. Her lip trembled at the small sign of rejection. Her eldest boy had the opposite reaction. He welcomed his mother in his arms, not afraid of what others around them thought like Edmund.

She squeezed his shoulders. "Look after the others," She blinked her eyes and patted away the gentle tear from reaching the skin beneath her eye.

Peter slunk his bag around his shoulder. He nodded before straightening his back as the patrol unit marched his way again. His chest puffed out and he steeled his eyes. "I will mum,"

Mrs. Pevensie wanted to chuckle at her son's antics. Her smile reappeared going down the last two girls in her pride. "You be a big girl now Susan," Her fingers smoothed down the back of her hair. Then her hand curled around Sophia. Her motherly embrace comforted her as the worries she held last night blew like thick bubbles in her mind. One by one they popped or collided but that didn't stop herself from producing new worries: new bubbles.

"Make sure they aren't in too much trouble," She patted Sophia on the back. Standing before her were the children. She tightened a grip on her wrists as she realized just how hard each mother at the station felt. Letting go. Helen wasn't exactly a stranger to letting go. She let go her husband wanting to pursue a military career. She had to let go her small job at the deli factory to take care of her children. Her eyes slightly combed together when she suppressed the same letter Anne was given not too long ago.

Her eyes fluttered. "There now... off you go," Her voice quieted. She watched them from behind as Peter took charge.

Lucy's eyes watered. Sophia held back Peter. He turned around and saw the downcast look on his sister's face. "Come on, we've got to stay together now. Everything's going to be okay," She nodded and held Susan's hand as they approached the train entrance.

He held the tickets in his hand, about to hand them off to the ticket master when a poster on the wall and uniformed men handed out flyers to join up arms. He remembered some of his friends from school talking war. How they were going to strike up for the effort no matter what there parents said. The idea of protecting his family and fighting for something real then staying behind appealed to him. Pathologically, it stirred something inside. If Edmund was fascinated with the tracking of the war, Peter was more than interested with the actual fighting, maneuverings, talking of strategy, the planning, etc.

"Peter!" Susan snatched the papers out of his hand and handed them to the kind ticket master. She stamped the valid mark and sent them off to board the train. Edmund and Peter sorted the luggage aboard as the girls loaded inside the compartments. Peter offered Edmund a hand up but he rejected it in disgust.

"I know how to get on a train," he said snottily pushing aside his brother. Peter never said a word. Not in front of his mother. The last thing he wanted her to remember was the fight that erupted from her children. He would settle it out later in the middle of the trip and as well not at their host's convenience.

The final whistle blew and mothers and guardians waved at the children in the windows. The Pevensie lot managed to crack up a window at the loading dock of the compartment by their mother. As the train rolled off, she watched her children shout their loudest 'I love you' and goodbyes. Silent remorse washed off of her. She waved her wrist out and blew them each kisses.

Her normally soft voice spoke volumes over the whistle and the gears. "Good-bye my darlings,"

As the station remained empty, mothers dissociate back to the messy crowds holding lace napkins to their faces. Helen continued to look at the tracks and imagine each part of her children's journey from start to finish. She closed her eyes, pictured a train on the highway to safety, hopefully meeting some good people, and for once gets along without her instruction.

The grip on her wrists was enough to pinch her back to the emptying train station. All that was left were bustling men handing out their flyers and the lady ticket masters collecting the tallies into bigger bundles. It was then she managed a tear and allowed it to run as she made the lonely trip to a broken house.

* * *

Susan sobered up the chance to beat the crowd in search of seats. She may have been promised to stay together with her siblings but that couldn't be said the same for finding seats. Her presence corralled the group to make it down the narrow stretch of the aisle looking at each compartment for room. Most were swelled with various aged children ranging from the highest under 18 to even the smallest four year old Susan hand laid eyes on.

"Here's an empty one," It was a promising one. Simple plush seats facing each other with racks above head to keep carry on cargo. They would all fit, even with the two children sitting as close to the window as possible. As if the window were a portal back to their mother's arms. Their sad faces softened the features on Lucy. They were around her age and obviously too scared to know what was going on or what to do.

Susan and Lucy sat together with the two children dressed in warm layers. Sophia occupied the window seat and the boys hurdled the challenge of the luggage.

"Ed, grab the trunks," he said taking his own bag off his shoulders.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine," he grumbled.

Sophia's bag curled into her lap. It was heavy to the brim of old things. Aside from the trunk she was given by Helen that contained the necessities, she couldn't bear placing delicate items from her past shoved in between cardigans and shoes. She was more than content leaving the bag perched on her lap for the time being. Peter had none of it.

"Here," He offered a hand.

Gingerly, she allowed the bag in his hands. She smiled courteously. "Thanks,"

She watched the boys- mainly Edmund struggling and Peter confidently storing them securely up high. Sophia had to mentally slap herself as she noticed the sleeve of Peter's shirt skirted down to see the slight toned tan arm. Her blush rose and she found interest in the sudden lush landscape.

He sat down next to her with plenty of space for him and a begrudging Edmund. Sophie leaned all her weight into the glass window pane and wall of the bumpy train as his hand accidentally brushed her forearm.

The train's consistent bumps made it worse for her blush, bobbing up and down caused the blood in her to rise quicker to her cheeks.

* * *

For the first few stops along the lengthy ride, no one dared to speak. The solemn atmosphere made the mood melancholy. Something Lucy was unfamiliar with. She tried to speak with the others but they were too interested anything but. Susan brought along a book or two cautiously as she didn't want to cause a stomach problem from reading too much in motion. Edmund's knee jerked up and down as he found the train's uneven speed annoying just like anything else. Te case of Peter and Sophia was interesting for Lucy to digest.

Every once in a while, the wheels rattled against the rough texture of the different steel tracks. It was only natural for the occupants to occasionally bump into each other. Every time a jolt was made, Peter would squeeze his hands and Sophia pressed herself more and more against the window seat. How odd to a little girl. They were good friends, why should it be not alright?

Lucy continued to notice Edmund's frustrating taps on his heel to the floorboards, Susan's dog-ear marked pages she crinkled, and the click of Sophia's fingernails against the clear glass.

It was like everyone remained tense. They were all anxious enough without having to share with two frightened children who spoke to each in low murmurs. Lucy wished she would have talked to them more as they disembarked at one of the first stops.

Outside of the window they saw again the two separated. One was tagged to a distinguished gentleman with a walking cane and a governess of sorts inspected the girl. Both children glanced at each other. They didn't even have the chance to hold each other nor speak to one another before their new caretakers sent them on their way.

Lucy's eye glistened over. "Why were they separated?"

Her younger brother muttered things under his breath. "Because," Sophia averted her eyes to Edmund. Her throat clenched tightly. Her knuckles beamed white. How dare would he say such a snide thing to his sister? He should have been grateful they weren't split apart miles away. She squinted her eyes and huffed at the window.

Susan sighed. She closed the book with an earmark. "Not a lot of families in the country have enough room to board," Her fingers traced the newly bound spine of the gray book.

Lucy's eyes widened. "We won't be separated, right?"

Peter offered half a smile. His brother, out of the corner of his eye, started to silently imitate Lucy's innocence in a degrading fashion. His blood boiled in his veins. He turned to Lucy.

"Never," He added a curt, "Ed, don't start," just when Edmund began to fake cry.

Shrugging his shoulders, Edmund relaxed in his seat. "What? I didn't do anything," Sophia counted backwards to ten: a practice shown by her mother. Feeling the nerves in her knuckles to release, she unclenched her grinded teeth. They weren't paying any attention to Lucy. Poor, confused Lucy.

"Boys-"

Sophia interrupted, "Stop it. You're upsetting Lucy," All was silent once more. Lucy's face returned to its natural state. Sophia's forehead wrinkled before bumping her head against the backboard. "Let's enjoy the scenery," She closed her eyes wishing she could sleep the rest of the way.

"While it lasts," retorted Edmund.

She cracked an eye open. "Your cynicism can be without," Her warning reached to his ears finally. The rest of the journey lied relatively smooth- metaphorically.

* * *

When the Pevensies were dropped off, they were alone on a platform. For the most part is was deserted. All the other children on this stop found their caretakers easily enough. The train conductor waited with them for ten minutes before having to leave before they missed the time of the next arrival.

Sophia held her bag and suitcase in two hands. Her coat was taken off and stuffed inside due to the supernatural humidity the afternoon brought. They must have looked quite a sad troupe. Standing on a wooden, half corroded platform waiting for a miracle. Or really the next buggy.

Feeling trapped, Sophia set her luggage down temporarily. "Well, here we are. In the middle of nowhere,"

Susan called, "The Professor knew we were coming?"

But then a small hope rose. A car traveled its way the road to the side. They, believing it to be the Professor, stampeded off the platform. Only to meet a passing car with a driver giving them curious looks before speeding past them.

All of them sighed in disappointment. Edmund looked at his tag the rest of them wore. "Perhaps we've been incorrectly labeled?"

Before Peter had half a mind to wait for the next train, he spotted something overcoming the hill. Calling to the horse trotting with the carriage down on his back and hide, a thin woman with the reigns in her hands approached the five. She wore thick rimmed glasses, a stout hat, and a stern look. The kind that made babies squeamish.

She pulled the horse with a flick of her gloved wrists and eyed down at the children clutching at their cases grimly.

Peter, assuming leadership, rattled his brains for the name his mother told him. He found it just as his lips parted. "Mrs. MaCready?"

Her stony features wrinkled. "I'm afraid so," A good portion of her voice thickened in the accent of the Scots. Her posture was impeccable and probably never smiled that often. She eyed the lot. "Is that it then? Haven't you brought anything else?"

Peter shook his head. "No, ma'am. It's just us,"

An ample woman, Mrs. MaCready was never the one to be maternal. While all the gals she knew were governesses, mothers, grandmothers, and the cringing duty of barmaid wenches, the MaCready preferred her studies in housekeeping. And she took it like a general. She ran the Diggory Manor just as firm as the reigns in her hand.

Under her breath she muttered, "Small favors. Get in. No shoutin', no bustlin' while I'm drivin',"

One by one they carried their selves into the back of the carriage. On the way to the Manor, Sophia lost her way through the scenery. All her life she was sheltered in a gated community with the park, a few trees, and the occasional forest. Out here, man had no control over the bountiful nature. It was rugged, unkept, and rolling- just the way Sophia would have preferred. A rustic wood held a thousand times a thousand more pictures than any recreational park.

Although the bumps and creaks of the wheels could have been without. The Manor they would preside in was modern. Standard wood carvings, ornamental fountains and bushes dotted the porch and the smell of freshly thrown mulch onto the bed gardens was the first of many sights for the Pevensie children. The character of a house, however, lied within the heart of the owner.

"The professor is unaccustomed to having children in his house, and as such, there are a few rules we need to follow," Mrs. MaCready hooked their coats and outer wear into the coatroom. Prim and proper, she guided them to the foyer where the grand staircases dived into the two main wings on the second floor. She checked her watch for the time and urged the shy children close- but not too close. "There will be no shoutin' or runnin', no improper use of the dumbwaiter," She noticed one of the elder girls about to touch a bust. "NO touching of the historical artifacts," Her voice rose a few decibels. Susan retracted her curiosity in apology.

The group made it to the first stairs to a occupied door. It was closed. "And above all, there shall be no disturbin' of the Professor," Mrs. MaCready lowered her voice to soothing Scottish intonation. She gestured down the hallway with every intention to get the children away from the Professor's study. "This way to your rooms,"

* * *

She stopped abruptly nearly causing Sophie and Edmund to fall backwards. Mrs. MaCready raised a brow before pointedly glancing at the two doors facing at opposite sides. "Supper should be ready soon. Girls on the left, boys on the right," She opened each door curtly. They parted as she clacked her heels down the stairs.

Each room was furnished with the necessities equipped with a washroom. Sophia glanced at the two beds in the girls' room. She decided the bigger of the two can go to Lucy and Susan. With that in mind, she dropped her trunk on the single bed near the windows. The sun was already dying as the children settled in.

"It's bigger than our room back home!" Lucy's jar dropped at the quilt draped over the down comforter of her new bed. She looked curiously at the draperies. Minute pictures scaled across the velvet. Gold and aurora red embellishments of creatures and scribbled words too small to identify. Lucy could only imagine this room was worthy enough for a princess (at least in her mind). She grabbed a stitched small pillow from the headboard to feel the soft lace.

Sophie's hand smoothed across the flat surface of the wardrobe chest. It was small but enough to fit most of their belongings. They had so few belongings suitable after the wreckage. "The furnishing is beautiful,"

Edmund walked in and sat rudely on the crisp clean bed of Sophie's. "It's ancient and raggedy. This place wouldn't last long in an air raid," he bragged as he looked at every nook and cranny in disgust. Lucy's eyes saddened as she held the white lace pillow to herself as Edmund sneered at something else.

Peter stormed in and grabbed hold of the doorway. "Ed, let's go unpack in our room," he said trying to contain his voice. Edmund went gladly knowing his work was done.

Susan narrowed her eyes at her brother leaving before scowling under her breath as she turned over her trunk. "Don't listen to him, Luce," Sophia called from the edge of the bed. Her hand wrapped around one of the four bed posts. Her teeth widened. "Think of this place like... a castle. It's big and great. Perfect for exploring,"

Lucy's face flushed back to normal. "Yeah," At the notion of exploring, Lucy crawled off and started to gaze at the floorboards, the wallpaper, and anything else in the room. Susan eyed her sister as she went to wash her hands before going to properly explore again.

Susan hastened, "You shouldn't be filling her head with nonsense,"

Sophie's hand uncurled from the wood. Her hand came to her other elbow. "Lucy needs her imagination. It distracts her from out there," She nodded to the darkening sky.

Susan meticulously unfolded and refolded a pair of socks seeing to any stiff wrinkles from the journey. "Yes but sooner than later, she'll have to realize how real it is," she said stiffly.

All was quiet as Lucy strolled in, happy as a clam, and walked out of the room. Sophia looked miserably toward the little girl and to the window once more.

Her eyes cast down. Her head bowed slightly. Where Susan was logical, Sophia made up with compassion. She folded her arms behind her back. "So you would rather your sister learn about the blood and death we hear every night on the radio after she's asleep?" A brow rose.

The elder Pevensie girl looked taken back. Her face paled. "Of course not," Her eyes lit up. "But that doesn't mean she should remain ignorant of the issues,"

"Susan, you shouldn't take away Lucy's innocent nature. It would ruin her," Her voice softened as she could hear the brewing of stormy clouds gathering outside. It would thunder tonight or early in the morning. Either way it wouldn't be such a good night sleep in a foreign home.

"Supper's ready!" Lucy called forgetful of her place.

Susan panicked. "Lucy- shh," She held a finger to her lips.

Lucy stepped back in humiliation. "Sorry. Supper's ready," she reiterated.

Susan looked apologetically to her friend. "Let's wash up," she gently reminded the both of them. Sophia washed up first. She wrung a few fingers in her hair that were in the way.

Edmund opened and closed the door behind him nearly knocking into Sophia. "'Scuse me," He ushered himself to a skipping Lucy. Edmund could smell food a mile away if he had to. Sophie rolled her eyes before opening the door to the boys' room.

"Peter, supper's- whoa!"

He was in the middle of changing shirts when Sophie barged in unannounced. Her cheeks blushed as Peter's torso and bare arms were in view. Much to Sophie's horrible delight, he did seem to be toned for a boy that chased after his siblings and played wicket as a sporting contest. She could have paused time and not watch the turning of his muscles move under his skin. He turned around as Sophie's moment of recollection vanished.

"Sophie!"

She held a hand to block his half naked presence. "I am so sorry," Her eyes averted away. "I should have knocked. Um, supper is ready- Meet you downstairs,"

Peter pulled his arms through his shirt. "Ok. See you?" He said as Sophie looked anywhere but him.

She snuck a peek again at Peter before bumping her head against the door and feeling her way out of the room with the door closed behind her. Huffs of breaths reeled through her. The back of her head drowned in hormones while the racing of her heart was about as nerve-wrecking as a jockey tournament.

Peter was a friend, a good friend. These thoughts shouldn't be in her head. Walking away from the door, she couldn't help but picture it over and over how their brief moment should have been if only she knocked. He might have been slightly hurried to answer the door but… She couldn't _not_ think of his upper torso. The female in her told her it was only natural for a woman to see a man in such a presence but the rational, moral side of her told her this wasn't proper to see a really good friend of hers she's grown up with half naked.

And what horrified her was she almost _enjoyed _the fact seeing him. This time she actually slapped her head once or twice for thinking of that.

* * *

Dinner was nothing special. A lukewarm soup brewed in her stomach when Sophie and then Peter arrived at the table. It was silent and uncomfortable. Just the way Mrs. MaCready was used to. What was more perplexing to the children was the mysterious disappearance of their gracious host. The caretaker nodded it off telling them the Professor was mighty busy at the moment and takes his meals in his study. She left the topic dropped and the children continued meshing with their food until it was time to tuck in for bed.

Lucy was the first to be drowsy. Not of the soup she received. She was homesick. Sad little tears dripped down her face as she curled underneath the sheets in her nightgown. Her eyes itched with puffy eyes as she fingered the three sheets on her lap. Susan brushed her hair and Peter sat in one of the chairs near the window next to Lucy.

Sophia played with the frills of the hand made quilt and Edmund tinkered with the knobs on the radio. It waved in and out of stations until it picked up feed from Douglas Gresham.

His voice flowed out at first sketchy. The radio wave patterns fumbled and then returned to his natural smooth voice. Edmund kept an ear to his radio show as much as possible. However Gresham could have brought better news for them.

"German aircraft carried out several attacks on Great Britain last night…  
"

Sophie asked Edmund to turn it down as it was upsetting the lot of them. Especially Lucy.

"The sheets feel scratchy,"

Susan brushed down her bangs. "Wars don't last forever, Lucy. We'll be home soon," Her positive attitude lifted Lucy's downtrodden state.

Edmund grimly said, "If home's still there,"

Susan said in a flat tone, "Isn't time you were in bed?"

He retorted challengingly, "YES, Mum!"

Peter's head swiveled. "Ed!" Sophie whispered to Edmund to skive off. He did so begrudgingly. Peter dissociated Edmund's foul mood as Lucy's eyes looked to and fro. "You saw the outside. This place is huge. We'll be able to do whatever we want. Tomorrow's going to be great. Really," He leaned down to her.

Lucy asked in a mousy voice. "Can we go outside and see the stables?"

Peter smiled. "Whatever you want to do,"

Sophie said mischievously, "We'll have to sneak past the Macready," At the mere thought Lucy giggled.

"We can pretend to be spies!"

The child in her told her to join in to Lucy's laughter. She looked at her friends as they watched Lucy's mood changed quickly from homesick to adventurous. "Alright, well this little spy has to rest up and wake up early,"

Lucy sighed but pushed the covers off.

Susan walked off with, "I'll check on him. I'll be there in a minute, Lu,"

"Go brush your teeth," She gave an encouraging nudge to Lucy. That left her and Peter all alone again. The blush crept up again to her cheeks. Her fingers twisted each other nervously. "Um, sorry about earlier," Sophie used the blunt knife to cut the tension.

He scratched the back of his neck. "No harm. If anything I'm the embarrassed one," Momentarily he hid behind one of the posts to meet her half way.

The tips of her sleeves bundled beneath her fingers and crossed them across her chest. "Oh you don't have to be embarrassed about anything," Peter's head turned inquisitively. Realizing her stupidity, Sophie played with the bangs of her blonde hair. "Sorry, that came out wrong. I must be tired," She backed away introverted.

Peter stepped forward to grab her wrist. "You're fine," he said humorously. "It's been a long day for all of us," he admitted. The blue of his eyes dipped down to see hers. More than anything she wanted to crawl under her sheets and press do-over desperately. Here he was taking all the fault for her discourteous action and she was flabbergasted like a gulping fish.

She bit her lip. "Right," She laughed nervously. He continued to look at her as she tried to think of something else other than her stutters,

The sound of running water silenced and Lucy, freshly brushed, came out humming to herself. She smiled brightly at the two flustered friends. "Oh, hello there, Sophia. Peter,"

Peter shifted his feet as if his sister knew something he didn't. Though there was nothing smug about her face, he could just tell she innocently knew something about them.

"I should go," She rubbed her arm. Meaning to go to bed. Peter took chance to get out before he did something more stupid. She pushed him jokingly out. "Good night, Pete," she called good-naturedly.

"Night, Soph," She blushed closing the door.

As Peter returned to his shared room with his brother he couldn't help but notice the sparkle in his friend's eyes. Although he would never admit it to anyone nonetheless himself, he watched from the night of the raid and all the days in between, including now- that dim shine in her eyes was growing brighter by the day.

It left Peter pondering. There was something about Sophia Eames, his… friend, he had yet to know about. And he was determined to find out.

* * *

**One of my best chapter openers if I don't say so myself. Hope every is having a good break for those that do have it. It's been nothing but relaxing for me. Lots of brainstorming for the upcoming chapters as far as dialogue. Have lots to write :)**

**Read and Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Exposure

* * *

There was something about an English rain that soothed Sophie. To her, it was a reminder that angels did shed tears. Every time she was caught in a storm she pretended their tears were for her. A pious blessing would wash over her. The pitter-patter that prickled her skin kept Sophia one-step closer to the ones she lost. Rain was good. The cold, wet atmosphere allowed imperfections scattered in a seemingly "perfect realm".

When she woken to hear the rain, the feeling was mutual. She reveled in her morning stretch with the cacophony of rain pricking the roof above her head. Then the beat dropped. Like the bombs in Finchely. It was subtle and then rose to a crescendo. Her ears rang as her brow furrowed. Against her body's wishes she sat up. The frizz waved in her face before hugging the sides.

Her eyes trailed to the diamond-patterned window. The blurry lines of rain pounded meticulously against the panes. Sophia frowned. Her back hit the plush of the featherbed in grimace.

So much for a wonderful day. The strike of lightning lit up half of the room in natural light before the boom of the thunder vibrated.

* * *

What it all boiled down was a soggy oatmeal and milk breakfast followed with a groggy venture to the library. Susan reclined lazily in comfort with one of the Professor's thick and dusty tomes. Lucy and Edmund drearily laxed on the floor with occasional drawing glance at the continuous somber weather. Sophia kneeled down at the table, drawing ominous etchings in the polished mahogany or thumped a show tune that popped in her head.

Peter was in no better condition. His head hit the back of a chair in annoyance.

Susan enunciated, "Gas-tro-vas-cu-lar." No response. "Come on, Peter. Gas-tro-vas-cu-lar."

Sophia wanted nothing more than to chuck the dictionary out the window, as it held no significance to the group. She watched Peter inanimately interact with the game Susan enjoyed.

"Is it Latin?" he asked.

Her finger lined up with the word. "Yes…"

Edmund played with the useless wicket ball. He threw it up the air and tried to catch with a single hand. Targeting the ball's fall, he easily caught it.

"Is it Latin for worst game ever invented?"

Susan glared. She shut the book with a dusty close. Sophie fanned herself as the particles invaded her nose.

She wrinkled her nose. "It's too gloomy to be stuffed up inside the library," Besides her Lucy jumped to her feet in joy.

"We could play hide-and-seek," Lucy looked fondly to her brother for approval. His face said otherwise.

He drawled, "But we're already having so much fun," Edmund snickered at his little sister's stubbornness.

"Please," she begged pulling on his sleeve. "Please, please," Sophie found it completely adorable, pug-face worthy Lucy managed. Peter couldn't deny her anything. He laughed at her silly nature before pulling his arm free from her.

"One, two," She smiled. Edmund scowled as the game continued on Peter's count. Standing up, Sophie separated herself from the group. In order to succeed at the game, you need to be as far as possible so as not to taunt the seeker with searching in a nearby radius of his original spot. Fastening her pace was easy but quietly was trickier. Sophia stayed away from half-closed doors and objects like curtain tassels that can be touched or swayed by her speed.

She searched high and low while counting mentally.

_Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty_.

Slight panic overwhelmed her. She cut across the stairway and dead-ended to a single door to her left.

_Fifty-nine, sixty, sixty-one_.

She prayed it was a door to another hallway. It was. The long hallway that housed their dormitories. She could have slapped herself for not detailing how familiar the house's paths were.

_Seventy-six, seventy-seven, seventy-eight_.

No time to lose. She decided against the girls' rooms. That only left the boys'/ Or the door that was a hop, skip, and jump away from the library hall. The door opened and was left the way it was- barely closed. The curtains weren't long enough to cover her shoe-clad stockings and the washroom was a definite no. That left the narrow space underneath the beds. Not one to know how clean Edmund kept his side, she embarrassingly chose under Peter's bed.

Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.

She barely got her left leg underneath. She concentrated on the breathing and not the lone dust bunnies or how she could feel the floorboards move. Her forehead knelt into the boards and waited.

The click of a door opened. Sophia sucked in her breath. Her eyes strained to the feet in vain. Only the sound welcomed her ears. She guessed Peter was too near at the edge. She watched with bated breath. The creak of the box spring above made her close her eyes. The weight of the bed slunk down, but it was nothing to the loud, heavy heart rattling in her chest. Her ears keened to the side of the bed, just under the lace trimming.

Then just as she was expecting Peter's head to pop up, two hands grabbed roughly on her ankles. She lurched back the scream in hr throat. She was pulled out from under, feeling the sting of the wood rubbing against her forearms.

Sophia turned to defend herself when Peter guffawed. He sat besides her tense figure and poked her once on the shoulder. The heart beating rapidly inside worked overtime.

"Gotcha," he said grinning from ear to ear. Sophie maneuvered to sit up with her legs tucked to the side as she wore a pleated skirt. She rammed her delicate fist pathetically to Peter's brawny shoulder.

Mad, she lectured, "Why must you scare me like that?" She was drowned by his feeble attempts to pull a straight face. "I swear, sometimes you're worse than Edmund." She charged to the door but was beaten by Peter's hand steadily gripping the knob.

His face screwed into sincerity. "I'm sorry, Soph. But you were playing hide-and-seek. It's bound to happen," he emphasized. She continued to struggle for a grip on the door handle.

The crinkle of a smile came and went. "That doesn't mean you can scare me half to death, you know,"

He held his hands up, gesturing her apparent freedom. "By all means, you have permission to scare Ed or Susan,"

Sophie stared at him momentarily, debating whether to give out a come back. Regaining from the awkward feeling, she returned a smirk and tilted her head innocently.

"Since when do I need permission?" she said before disappearing behind the door.

Peter huffed, rolled his fingers through his hair and followed after her with a necessary will.

* * *

Finding Susan was like finding a needle in a haystack- next to near impossible. Unless she stuck out like a sore thumb. Sophie would have to discuss future hiding spots later with her, if she could be found. As she and Peter walked through the halls relatively short after discovering Sophie.

It would have been a harder game if it weren't for Lucy's voice.

"I'm back, I'm back, and it's alright!" she harked.

Peter shared a glance with Sophie before stalking after the small crevice Lucy and Edmund hid. Edmund's annoyance grew as he came out from behind the tapestries. Lucy's sweet head bobbed with sheer delight and relief. Sophie rubbed her arm as it was so odd to see Lucy neglect a game. Especially one she wanted to play in the first place.

Peter shook his head. "You know, I'm not sure if you two have quite gotten the idea of this game,"

Lucy's face twisted in confusion. She gaped her mouth open before glancing up at her siblings. "But weren't you wondering where I was?"

"That's the point! That's why he was seeking you!" Edmund's voice rose.

Sophia shushed the younger brother sharply. "Edmund," She bent down to be leveled with the troubled girl. "Lucy, did you know find a good hiding spot?" she inquired.

From around the corner Susan strolled in, with a rare smile.

"Does this mean I win?" Her smile turned upside down at her distraught sister.

Peter observed, "I don't think Lucy wants to play anymore,"

Lucy's breathing became shallow. "But you have to believe me! There's a whole wood in the wardrobe! Come see!" She pulled tightly around her brother and sister's hands. She led them to the cozy niche of a spare room. A musty sheet lie on the floor next to a great wardrobe. It stood from top to bottom about six feet with old-fashioned carving. One can presume the sheet protected the sleek finishing as it shone in the few rays that shone.

Susan gazed at the furniture before turning to Sophia. "A forest? Do you mean of clothes?" Her logical side kicked in. It was impossible to predict her sister's mind wanderings. Besides her Sophia stepped to Lucy's vacant side, never leaving the sight of the wardrobe.

"No!" Lucy digressed.

One by one they inspected the interior of the wardrobe. Susan pushed back the hangers of fur coats and forgotten mothballs clung to dusty clothes. She coughed wildly inhaling the old smells from yester years. The professor surely did not care about _these_ coats.

Sophia and Edmund took turns knocking on the wood for hollow entrances. Sophie couldn't imagine anything of Lucy's tale other than she was a smaller child compared to an overwhelming sized wardrobe. That alone plus the extremely plush coats _could_ be branches similar to a forest. All in all, Sophie pondered why Lucy would want to play hide-and-seek only to play another? It was uncharacteristic of Lucy to interrupt without following through the first objective.

Susan sighed. She didn't want to be the one to explain to her sister in the older kids' world, it was simply not proper to pretend firmly other worlds existed. It just wasn't simply done. "The only wood in here is the back of the wardrobe," Her voice sugarcoated the practicality in her voice.

Peter said, "One game at a time Lu, we don't all have your imagination,"

Lucy's head went from one rejection to another. Her eyes widened and the familiar tight feeling in her throat made her lip quiver.

"But I wasn't imagining!"

Susan said sternly, "That's enough,"

A hand went to her head. Susan wasn't helping her sister at all. She was degrading her youth. Sophie tried to deflect Susan's coarse words into something sweeter. "Did you mean these carvings? There's one of the woods," Her hands skimmed the depictions along the chest of the wardrobe.

She shook her head persistently, like a stubborn child refusing to sleep. "No, it was an actual wintry woods with trees and snow and everything!"

Edmund uncrossed his arms and smacked his lips noisily. "Well I believe you,"

Lucy, grateful for believing, could not think of one reason why Edmund would believe her. He didn't then, why now? "You do?" she asked covering a hand over a tearing eye.

He snickered, "Yah, didn't I tell you about the football field I found in the bathroom closet?"

Peter's usual tolerance for Edmund's snide comments was depreciating. "Why don't you just stop it, you always have to make everything worse. Grow up!"

Sophie had to back up as Edmund stepped up to Peter challengingly. "Shut up! You think you're dad, but you're not!" All his frustration flooded out of his system as he stormed out of the room with Peter slightly taken back.

"Well, that was nicely handled," Susan sarcastically remarked. She walked off to retrieve her brewing brother.

"It was really there…" Lucy's small voice thinned the tension in the room. Sophie and Peter glanced back at Lucy. Her eyes were glistening and her small hands grabbed a bit of her cardigan in anxiety. Sophie could have cried at her young friend's innocuous nature.

Peter held his head high. "Susan's right. That's enough.." He looked to Sophie who looked anywhere but him. He assumed she would walk with him, maybe to diffuse the fight between Edmund and his self. She made no such gesture. Wordlessly he walked away.

Then there was Lucy looking hopelessly at Sophie.

But she tried nonetheless. "Sophie? You believe me, right?"

She bit her lip. She eyes wandered back to the mysterious wardrobe. "The only snow I see is these mothballs. And the coats are like branches..." she justified.

Lucy's eyes blinked profusely. "You don't," she confirmed.

She lowered herself down to her knees. Now she looked up to Lucy. Her eyes drooped. "Lucy, I want to believe you. But I don't see what you see," Sophie could only hope to understand. Her cold hands were wrapped around Sophie's warm ones. "Come on, let's go see if we can sneak into the cookie jars," She stood up and placed the warm hand around her clammy one. Together they made the silent trip to the kitchen where Mrs. MaCready hoarded her homemade sugar cookies.

* * *

Sophie made doubly sure to knock the next time she came across Peter's door. She counted away the agonizing seconds. Secretly she wanted that second peek but at the same time hoped he was properly dressed this time.

Peter smiled at the guest. For a moment he believed it was Edmund, ready to deck him in the nose. It was a refreshing change to see Sophie's face however with the one blemish of a frown gracing her lips. "You knocked?"

She circled her fingers nervously. "I was hoping we could talk,"

The way she was might have seemed silly but to him he found it amusing. He liked it when Sophie contemplated. As much pressure he was in, it was always welcoming to see another one struggling with the amount on their plates together.

"Come in," His arm spread open. She walked in and paced by the tea table. "What's on your mind?" he questioned at her frazzled state.

"I calmed Lucy down with a cookie. But she's so distraught from earlier," Sophie's eyes were full of apprehension.

Guilt washed over the oldest Pevensie's face. He sat down at the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees. "I feel horrible," he admitted. "It's bad enough I have to keep on Edmund's toes. Lucy's always had her fanatical ideas," He laughed a little. He loved his family. So much that it made Sophie appreciate what little she had left. She shook her head once. This wasn't about her or Peter's likable traits.

Sophie gestured, "She did what she had to do. She's the youngest in a growing family. I don't want her to grow up to be cynical like Edmund or practical like Susan," Her mind boggled at the idea of Lucy becoming anything other than herself. The thought gave her a shiver.

"I know, Soph," His voice softened. "We're in a difficult position miles away from home. Lucy seems the only one to sort of adjust," A hand came over his face.

Sophie, against her prefrontal lobe's wishes, carefully sat next to Peter. Her shaky hand moved to reach his shoulder. She was hesitant but decided to comfort him. The instant touch left her feeling tingly and unnatural. The tips of her nails smoothed down the wool jacket.

"I don't want her to grow up because of some war. She's not my sister but..." Peter glanced at her. Her speech stuttered. The words left her mouth and skyrocketed out of the room. Possibly out of the country. Her eyes were immediately drawn to his lips. They were slightly apart.

"Yeah," he said losing himself into her eyes. The crystal sparkled in particular just now. The air around them was silent but soothing. It took all of him to restrain himself from closing the distance between them to see just how spectacular those blue eyes were. His eyes darted between her lips and most importantly her eyes. She parted her head, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Did we just have a moment?" Peter cleared his throat. From the corner of his eye, he saw the bright smile hiding in between her curled strands.

She laughed. "Don't know what you're talking about," She delayed. "But I know that those cookie jars are mine!" She bolted off with a purpose. Feeling the need to prove to himself and pursue after Soph.

He chased after her. "Not if I get there first!" She giggled as she sped up her pace. Their feet collided against the wood flooring. She made a sharp turn and nearly squealed at the hand skimming over her backside. Her wavy hair fluttered as she maneuvered down the stairs.

Their loud racketing awakened the screams of one caretaker. Mrs. MaCready's shrill banshee voice cried, "No runnin' in the hallways!" The woman had ears like a bat sometimes.

Two corners and a close encounter with a door planting on her face and a sudden collision of bodies, they raced into the kitchen and to the location of a jar. A painted yellow clay container that sealed the sugary goodness that were cookies.

Peter nearly tripped over to the counter but he was the one that grabbed the lid of the jar. "Looks like I win," he huffed in between breaths. Sophia smoothed down her wild, frenzied hair with a quaint smile.

She nodded. "Fair and square,"

Peter stopped. He held the cookie to her hand. "Actually you have it. A gentleman always offers to the lady first," He didn't take no for an answer as she opened her mouth for protest.

Her eyes teased, "Since when were you so noble?"

He mockingly bowed to her. "I have some decorum unlike what Susan has said," They laughed together. He closed the cookie jar where their fingers brushed gently across the lid.

Sophie broke the cookie down the middle. "We can share. Half for me, half for you. Equal," She tipped her cookie to his like the clinking of champagne glasses.

Peter all but drooled at the taste of Mrs. MaCready's confectionary sweet. "This is good," If there was one thing they could say about the grouchy woman, it was her gift to make delicious delicacies.

Sophie winced. "Should be. It's the last in the jar," She covered a hand over her mouth from incessantly giggling at Peter's awestruck appearance.

Peter, on the spot, blurted, "Tomorrow, if it's not dreary, want to go outside?" She cocked her head. He clarified, "Play a little cricket? You and me versus Susan and Ed," He played it off simply.

"As a team,"

"Yeah," he said. "I can't stand Ed at the moment and Susan is a little stuffy," he confessed. On the outside, he was calm; on the outside he was a train-wreck. In his gut there was something tugging against him. Pulling him to say such things. For instance the moment they had not too long ago. Or when she stumbled upon him changing. And to bring it full circle, now.

There was no reason to be nervous. It was a game they had competed in since they were younger. Why should this one game matter above all the rest of them? The clenching inside clung on to her every reaction.

She paused, studying Peter. Next, she glanced at his facial expression. He hoped there wasn't anything suggesting to decline his invitation. "Oh, um. Sure. Though fair warning I haven't played since Susan accidentally hit that bat at my arm," She blushed, brushing a strand behind her ear.

His fingers shook his mane of hair. The moment of truth blew past him in astonishment. "You'll be fine. Rest up. We've got a game to win," He clapped her on the back. She wore a placate smile, unaware of the rush of emotions flowing through her.

As he rounded the corner, her expression neutralized and she slumped next to the counter. She blew out a sigh as she chewed through the last crumbs of her treat.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**To reply to some confusion about my character's name: Her name is Sophia. Her parents and the Pevensie's nickname her Sophie. Peter prefers to call her Soph. I like to alternate the three names because they symbolize something different. When she is called Sophia, it's elegant and formal. Sophie is the child nickname that represents youth, innocence, and an adventurous spirit. Whereas when Peter (and company) address her as Soph, it's more tender and personal.**

**So sorry to any confusion. Hope it clarifies to the sudden switch in naming.**


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